


A Valuable Lesson

by Dextrousleftie



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Lust, M/M, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8983357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dextrousleftie/pseuds/Dextrousleftie
Summary: Asami Ryuichi is furious when Fei Long kidnaps, rapes, and tortures his lover. He vows to get revenge against his former lover turned enemy, with the help of a lovely but deadly assassin.





	1. Chapter 1

The beautiful Chinese man strode down the corridor toward the cells. Rage had twisted his lovely features into something almost gargoyle-like. “How could this happen!” he barked at the terrified men scurrying in his wake. “Whoever allowed this to happen shall pay dearly!”

“Forgive us, Master!” wailed one of them miserably. “They came out of nowhere, and there were too many of them! We were overwhelmed by numbers!”

Fei Long, head of a powerful Chinese tong organization, snarled silently as he swept up to the now open door of the cell. The little room was empty, its single occupant gone with the team of Japanese commandos, who had broken into his compound with the specific purpose of rescuing Takaba Akihito. Asami had taken back what was his - without bothering to show his face in China. Fury churned in his breast and stomach. His men backed away from the demonic expression on Fei Long’s face. “M-Master…there is a-a note…on the cot.” One of them wavered.

A straightening of the spine and tensing of the shoulders. Then Fei Long walked slowly into the empty cell, and reached down to pick up the folded piece of paper lying on the cot. His long fingers slowly unfolded it. It was written in Chinese, but was in Asami’s strong, firm handwriting. It said:

 

Fei Long. I have resisted doing anything to you in the past because of our former relationship, and because of the circumstances of our parting. I have allowed you to try to interfere in my business, and I even overlooked what you did to Akihito when you took him the first time. But no more. You overstepped yourself when you took what was mine. I have now taken it back, and I will only say this to you - do not ever come near Akihito again, for any reason. If you do, I will end you once and for all. Believe this.

Asami

 

His fingers crumpled the paper, as a near-manic rage rose up in Fei Long. Bastard! How he hated Asami Ryuichi! A snarl moved over his mouth. He would finally make the yakuza boss pay for what he’d done to Fei Long and his family. The gloves were coming off now. He turned, and the expression on his face made every one of the men huddled near the doorway back away from him. “Prepare the helicopter,” the lovely man said in an emotionless voice. “I will be going to Japan within the hour.”

They all scurried away happily to follow his orders. Fei Long took a deep breath, and smoothed a hand over his waist-length hair. He had to get himself back under control. Otherwise, he would not be able to make plans and carry out his vendetta against his enemy. He walked slowly out of the cell, and the only indication of the volcano going off inside of him was a very small tic at one corner of his mouth.

 

 

Asami Ryuichi looked down at the still figure draped over his lap. Akihito was still unconscious, which was perhaps just as well. The boy was bound to be traumatized by his kidnapping, and subsequent treatment at Fei Long’s hands. While he had recovered well from the first incident, he doubted that his lover would be quite so resilient this time. He would take the photographer somewhere to recover in peace. He had a small house in the country that he seldom used. The quiet atmosphere would be good for the boy’s nerves. He ran his long fingers through the soft hair on his lap, as Akihito whimpered softly in his drugged state.

Asami felt cold anger run through him at this sound. While he might be a sadist, what had been done to his lover infuriated him. Fei Long had tortured and hurt the young photographer simply to get back at HIM. For that he could not forgive the Chinese man. He’d always turned a blind eye to Fei Long’s machinations, because what the other man had become was partly his fault. He acknowledged that fact. Moreover, before this he’d still felt the dregs of liking for the lovely Chinese man, in spite of the fact that Fei Long hated him passionately. It had saddened him a bit to see the obsessed, twisted creature that the Chinese man had morphed into. He could remember with clarity the gentle, rather artistic soul he’d glimpsed when he’d first met Fei Long, in spite of the fact that the man was a killer for his family’s tong. But that person was long gone, and the man who’d replaced him was nothing like the old Fei Long at all.

Asami reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone, as the car drove away from the small private airport. The men he’d hired to rescue Akihito had flown the boy in in a small plane that belonged to Asami. The yakuza boss had been waiting on the tarmac to collect his lover. Now he dialed a number with a grim expression on his face. It was time to deal with Fei Long once and for all. He didn’t intend to kill the Chinese man, oh no - he intended to see that what went around came around in this case. He heard the phone ring, then it was picked up at the other end. A light, cool voice said: “Yes? What do you want?”

“This is Asami Ryuichi. I have another job for you, if you’re willing to take it on. I’ll give you all the particulars when I meet with you, and your fee will be the usual.”

A sigh. “I don’t know that I care,” the voice replied. “I’m not in the mood.”

“I think you will be when I show you a photograph of your target and explain what I want done,” Asami said calmly. “I think you’ll be interested then.”

 

Silence. Then: “I suppose. I’ll meet you at the usual place. Tomorrow at two o’clock. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I’ll be there,” Asami replied, hanging up the phone. He put it back in his pocket. He’d get Akihito settled in his country house, before driving up to Tokyo tomorrow to meet with the man he’d just called. He gently petted the head in his lap again. He’d see the bounce returned to Akihito’s step, and the wicked light in those bright eyes, or his name wasn’t Asami Ryuichi. 

 

Akihito awoke a few hours later. He sat straight up with a cry, only to see that he wasn’t in that tiny cell at Fei Long’s compound anymore. He was sitting up in a soft bed, and Asami was ensconced in a chair next to it. The yakuza boss had been reading some documents, but he put them down when he saw that his lover was awake. “Welcome back, Akihito-kun,” he said quietly.

“A-Asami? Where am I? What’s happening?” he looked around wildly.

“You’re in my house. I own a small piece of land in the country, where I come whenever I need a break from my business. I brought you here after the men I hired to bring you back from China delivered you to a private airport where I was waiting,” Asami explained in an even, soothing tone of voice.

“Oh,” Akihito slumped in relief, for while he might have protested being in Asami’s ‘clutches’ before this, memories of his time in that cell were crowding into his head, and making him shake. Only the presence of the powerful man sitting in the chair was helping to hold back the nervous breakdown at all. 

Seeing the trembling in the slim form, Asami rose to his feet. He walked to the bed and sat down on it, reaching out to pull Akihito into his arms. He said nothing, simply held the younger man as the photographer made small sounds in the back of his throat, and clung to the yakuza boss helplessly. A hand stroked his hair, and after a moment he found himself relaxing as his trembling slowed. “Akihito-kun,” Asami said at last. “You’ll be staying here for awhile to rest and recover. I’ll be here with you for as long as you need me - but I will have to go back to Tokyo tomorrow for a short time to attend to some business. And know this,” he drew back and lifted Akihito’s pointed chin to look deep into his eyes - “I promise you that you will never have any trouble with Fei Long again. He will never come near you after this. You have my word.”

The photographer stared at him. “Are you going to kill him?” he whispered, not sure if he wanted that or not despite what the lovely Chinese man had done to him. 

“No,” Asami shook his head. “I am simply going to teach him a profound lesson - and one which I am sure will take,” the yakuza boss said. 

“What are you going to do?” Akihito asked.

A shake of the head. “No. I will not tell you that. You are far too soft-hearted,” Asami replied simply. “You would sympathize with him, in spite of all that he has done to you. Just know that the problem will be dealt with,” he touched the younger man’s cheek. Then he leaned forward and kissed his lover, a mere brush of the lips that asked for nothing that he couldn’t give.

It was Akihito who deepened the kiss, needing to be close to Asami. He moaned breathily as a tongue insinuated itself into his mouth, and pushed himself against the bigger man, as he wound his arms around the yakuza boss’s neck. But after a moment Asami drew away. “You need comfort right now,” he said to Akihito’s questioning look, “And you would find it through sex. But I don’t think that you’re quite ready for that yet psychologically,” his fingers stroked the photographer’s cheek again. “You’ll know when you are, and you’ll tell me,” he said simply. “Until then, just rest. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need to use the bathroom?”

Akihito found that he was all three of those things. The yakuza boss went to summon a servant, and have food and something to drink brought to Akihito’s room, then helped his lover out of the bed and to the tiny bathroom. Akihito limped and moaned, and Asami’s mouth tightened into a grim line when he saw the bruises and cuts mottling the younger man’s body. He would have a doctor come and look at his lover tomorrow. It hurt Akihito to pee, and he moaned softly at the pain. Asami held him up until he was finished, then half-carried him back to bed. He settled Akihito in under the covers, as a servant came in with a tray of food, some orange juice and water, and a bottle of strong painkillers that Asami had ordered. The tray was set across Akihito’s lap and the servant left with a bow.

“Eat, drink, and take a couple of those,” Asami ordered his lover. He touched the bottle of painkillers lightly. “Don’t take them on an empty stomach, you’ll just end up throwing them back up.”

Akihito began to eat, finding that he was starving. He hadn’t been fed much for the days he’d been in Fei Long’s captivity. He devoured the food down to the last scrap, watched by Asami in a satisfied manner. When he was done, he took two of the pills in the bottle. He settled back against his pillows wearily, as the yakuza boss removed the tray and set it aside. The painkillers worked quickly; he was already starting to feel muzzy. His eyelids started to flicker shut as the pain disappeared. He sighed as hands eased him down onto the pillows again. “Sleep,” Asami’s voice said. “I’ll see you when you wake up.” 

 

Asami left the house the next morning, to drive to Tokyo. Akihito had woken up several times yesterday and today, to be fed and tended to. But he continued to sleep a great deal. He was slumbering now as the yakuza boss got into the back of his car. He’d told Akihito the last time that he’d woken up that he would probably be out of the house when he woke up again, but that the servants would see to his needs. He’d kissed the younger man on the forehead, before leaving the room. Now he relaxed back against the leather seat and attended to some important paperwork, as his driver took him smoothly into the city to get some work done before he made his meeting today. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out. The man on the other end informed him that Fei Long had arrived in Tokyo late yesterday afternoon. He felt a certain amount of satisfaction at this bit of information. He’d known that the Chinese man couldn’t stay away, and wouldn’t be able to do as the note that Asami had had left for him said. He was simply too obsessed, too angry.

 

He spent some time in his office at his club, and at one-thirty left to go to the outdoor restaurant to make his rendezvous. When his car drove up, he saw a familiar figure sitting at one of the tables sipping from a bottle of water and looking supremely bored. Asami felt a certain amount of relief, since he hadn’t been totally sure that the other man would come to this meeting even though he’d said he would. It was hard to actually interest him. He walked across the sidewalk and greeted the other man. “Good afternoon,” he said.

“Hello, Asami-san,” that light voice replied. “So why did you drag me out here today? This had better be good.” 

“It is,” the yakuza boss replied as he took his seat across from the other man. “Here is your target” he said, producing a packet of photos and documents and handing it across the table. “His name is Fei Long, and he is the leader of a powerful and influential tong sect in China.”

Slim hands opened the packet and pulled the photos out. A soft whistle. “Very pretty,” the man noted. “So you want me to finish such an exquisite creature? A shame.”

“No,” Asami said with a shake of his head. “I do NOT want you to kill him. This job will be slightly different from those you normally do.”

“Oh, so? Then just what is it that you want me to do?” there was curiosity in the light voice now.

:Gotcha: Asami thought with an internal smile. He had the man’s attention now.

“This is what I want you to do,” he said, and began to speak. The other man listened attentively. When the yakuza boss was finished a soft, rather evil laugh echoed out from the other side of the table.

“I see. Yes, I can do that,” the other man said. “Hmm, it will be decidedly enjoyable in point of fact. I’ll go and see him tomorrow.”

“You’re sure you can convince him?” Asami asked.

A narrowing of eyes. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” that light voice replied silkily. 

“Very well. I will leave the execution of this to you.” Asami said.

“Execution? A very nice choice of words,” the light voice purred in amusement. “Leave it to me, Asami-san,” a finger tapped the photo of Fei Long. “I shall make sure that your lesson is taught - and taught well.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely but deadly assassin pays a visit to Fei Long...and makes him an offer that he literally cannot refuse!

Fei Long sat in his office in Tokyo and considered revenge. What could he do to Asami besides kill the man? Even now he felt a great reluctance to do that, even though he’d had both Akihito and Asami in his sights that first time he’d taken the photojournalist, to find out what his relationship with the yakuza boss was. At the time Asami could have fired back at him as well – and hadn’t. The ties that bound the two of them still remained strong, in spite of all the bad blood between them.

He was sure that he would have no chance to take Akihito ever again. He believed what Asami had written in his note – if he ever tried to hurt the photojournalist to get back at the yakuza boss again, Asami would finish him. Bitterness welled in him at this thought, for it told him just how much that the yakuza boss cared for that boy. Asami had never loved him that much – if he had, the man would never have destroyed Fei Long’s family. He’d said that he was doing it for the Chinese man, but Fei Long didn’t believe that. Not when he had no brother or father anymore – because he refused to consider that the man that Asami had introduced him to as his father was actually his sire. That was just a lie that the yakuza boss had come up with, to explain away his reasons for killing Fei Long’s real father - and his brother, as well. He had been left with no one – and Asami had gone blithely back to Japan after destroying his entire life, leaving Fei Long to try to pick up the pieces.

Rage churned in his belly at these thoughts, and his long nails curled into his palms, hard enough to draw blood. A snarl moved over his mouth, and if the yakuza boss had been standing in front of him right at this moment, he would have clawed the arrogant bastard’s eyes out. He wouldn’t have bothered with martial arts, oh no. He wanted to get up close and personal when he hurt Asami again. He wanted to be able to see the pain in that vicious cur’s magnetic eyes. There had to be way…

 

There was a knock at his office door. “Come in,” he spat, and one of his men opened it tentatively. 

“Master, there is a young Japanese man here to see you,” he began, eyeing his boss warily. “He says he wants to talk to you about Asami.”

Fei Long stared at him. “About Asami? Why?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know, Master. He said he wouldn’t talk to anyone but you. He also said that it’s important, and that you’ll want to hear what he has to say.”

Silence, then Fei Long said: “Send him in.”

The man bowed and scurried out. The Chinese tong boss didn’t have long to wait to meet his mysterious visitor – the door opened, and a Japanese youth strolled into the room, with no signs of fear or unease on his face. And what a face, Fei Long thought as he took in a sharp breath. He’d always been a lover of beauty, having the soul of an artist. And this young man was extremely gorgeous. His lean body was lithe, and the face revealed under a silky mop of platinum-dyed blonde hair was that of an angel. A sensual, softly-pink mouth curved into a slight but wicked-looking smile; a delicately-rounded chin flowed into a jawline that could have been sculpted by a master artist. High cheekbones framed a pair of long, slanted eyes, surrounded by lashes so thick they looked like kohl. The eyes themselves were astonishing – a light, mist-grey, circled by black rings that threw them into startling relief. It was impossible for him to read the expression in these startling orbs, as he met them across his desk. They were almost blank, like two mirrors.

The rest of the package was just as extraordinary. An earring dangled from one ear, swinging and flashing in the light from the lamp on his desk. A white, long-sleeved shirt was half-open, revealing an expanse of pale, perfect skin, and a necklace made of chunks of turquoise and thick silver beads at the young man’s throat. A studded belt held up a pair of skin-tight black jeans, and he saw a bracelet at one wrist. A ring that was a plain silver disk, except for a single symbol of some kind carved into the face, encircled one long finger. He was shorter than Fei Long himself by a head, and he looked to be no more than seventeen years old. He paused just inside the door, one hand on his hip, showing himself off unself-consciously to the Chinese man.

“Greeting, Fei Long-sama,” a light young voice drawled.

“Do I know you?” the Chinese tong boss asked with wary politeness. Just because he appreciated the view, didn’t mean that he was going to let himself be taken in by a pretty face.

“No,” the youth replied calmly. “Not yet, anyway. May I sit down?” he waved at one of the chairs on the other side of Fei Long’s desk.

“Of course.”

The Japanese boy walked forward and draped himself gracefully over the chair. He lounged back in it like a beautiful cat, as his startling eyes met Fei Long’s across the desk. “My name is Takayashi Araki, although most know by a nickname,” he began without preamble.

Fei Long frowned slightly. “And what name would this be?” he asked. 

A smile spread over that sensual mouth. “Killer,” the boy replied. “That’s what the various gangs and clans in most of the Asian countries know me by. Just Killer. But you can call me Araki,” he added.

“I’m honored to be able to use your real name,” the Chinese mob boss replied dryly. “But forgive me if I’ve never heard either it or your…err...NICKNAME before this.”

A shrug of narrow shoulders. “Not a surprise. You have your own in-house killers, including your own lovely self,” he bowed his head a little to Fei Long. “But since I know that you’ll be needing my services soon…” he reached into the front pocket of his shirt, and tossed a square of stiff white paper onto the top of the desk. “My calling card,” he said.

Fei Long picked up the card in his long fingers. It was white, and blank except for a single kanji symbol printed on the front. “Killer,” he said, making the youth lift his brows slightly.

 

“So you read kanji?” he said.

“Of course. It is wise to know the languages of the people you will be dealing with,” Fei Long replied. “But I still do not know you,” he added, tapping the card with one of his nails. “And excuse me for saying it, but you don’t look old enough to be an accomplished assassin.”

Soft laughter. “Appearances can be deceiving, Fei Long-sama,” the boy pointed out. “As you should well know. You, yourself, look like a man who should be a pampered courtesan, but instead you are the head of a powerful Chinese tong. And I,” he rested a hand on his own chest, “Am older than I look. I sometimes find it very useful to be able to look both young and innocent,” he went on, with a wicked gleam in his astonishing eyes. “It puts my targets off their guard. After all, who would suspect that they’ll be killed by a young and beautiful boy? I don’t look dangerous at all,” he continued, “Which is one of the reasons that I’m very dangerous, indeed.”

“Yes, I could see that,” Fei Long agreed. “But truly I still have trouble believing that you’re an assassin.”

A sigh. “I see I shall have to convince you,” the Japanese youth remarked. “Very well,” he rose to his feet, one hand reaching into his pocket. The Chinese man stiffened, fearing a weapon in spite of the fact that he’d said that he didn’t believe that the boy was an assassin, but the only thing that Takayashi Araki pulled out of his pocket was a slim cell phone.

Fei Long wondered silently if the youth was going to call someone who could vouch for his identity. But, instead, the boy pushed a few buttons and handed the phone across the desk to a surprised Fei Long. “Take a look,” he said simply, and the lovely Chinese man turned the phone so that he could see the screen.

The the first picture that it displayed made the hairs try to stand up on the back of his neck. It was a body – the body of an older Japanese man, lying on his back with a bullet hole in his forehead. A single white square of paper, just like the one sitting on his desk, was lying on the dead man’s chest. “There are more,” the Japanese youth commented, and Fei Long went through the rest. Every one of them was a photo of a dead man, with that calling card either lying on or near the body. And he recognized some of those bodies – several were of powerful yakuza bosses, two were Chinese tong leaders whom he had been aware had been assassinated, and yet another was a Korean crime lord. Silently he looked through every picture, then handed the phone back to the now once-again seated youth. “Is it wise to carry around photographic evidence of your crimes?” he asked.

A fleeting smile. “Perhaps not. But since the police are not even aware that I exist, I don’t have too many fears of being caught. All of these killings,” he waved at the cell phone as he stuck it in his pocket, “Went under the radar. The cops weren’t called in for any of them, since police interference in what amounts to gang wars would not have been appreciated. The bodies are quietly disposed of, and the enemies who ordered the hit are the ones who are moved against. Nobody wants to come after me – not only because I’m very dangerous, but because they themselves might need my services in the future.”

“I see,” Fei Long commented. “So you are an assassin. What does this mean to me? And what does it have to do with Asami?”

 

“Ah,” the youth leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers across his lap. “As to that – are you aware that Asami-san has put a hit out on you?”

Fei Long felt a chill go down his spine. Asami had…ordered him killed? “I don’t believe you,” he said flatly to the boy.

A shrug. “Believe what you want, it’s the truth. He hired me, in point of fact, to finish you off.”

Bewildered, Fei Long said slowly: “Let me get this straight – Asami hired you to kill me? Then why are you here? To do the job?” he added as he tensed.

 

“No. I decided not to take the job after I saw a picture of you in the dossier that Asami-san gave me.”

“A picture of me? What has that got to do with anything?”

A predatory light entered the grey eyes. “You are extremely lovely, you know,” the youth purred. “I found myself unable to kill something so beautiful. So I‘ve come up with an alternate suggestion – I will turn around and kill Asami-san for ten per cent above what he offered me…and one other thing.”

 

Fei Long curled his fingers sharply on the desktop. “What other thing?” he asked tightly.

 

The grey eyes met his, half-narrowed and full of an unholy light. “You have to sleep with me.”

Stunned silence, as the Chinese man stared at him with his mouth slightly open. The boy leaned back in his chair, and waited patiently for the tong boss to recover his wits. Finally Fei Long blurted: “You wish me to sleep with you?”

A nod of the platinum-blonde head. “Yes, that’s right. I find you to be quite beautiful and sexy. As I said before, you remind me of a high-class courtesan. So if I can still collect my fee, as well as a night in your bed, then why shouldn’t I sell my services to you, instead of Asami-san?”

Fei Long slowly closed him mouth. “Perhaps you may have mistaken me for a courtesan,” he said icily, “But I am not one. I will not give myself to you in exchange for your services.”

A lifting of slightly winged brows. “Now who said that you had to do that? You will be seme in this one-night-stand, Fei Long-sama. All you have to do is perform for one night. Surely you can do that? Or do you find me too unattractive?”

Looking at that beautiful face and lithely-sexy body, the Chinese man couldn’t honestly say that he wasn’t attracted to the assassin. He sighed. “Very well. I will go along with this deal. How will you…kill Asami?” he asked, feeling rather sick at even asking this question. But if the yakuza boss had already contracted for his death…he had no choice but to eliminate Asami, whether he wanted to or not.

A shake of the platinum-blonde locks. “No, I cannot tell you that. Suffice it to say that I will make it very public, so that you’ll know that he’s actually dead. When the deed is done…” he added, getting lithely to his feet, “You will come to a hotel room that I will procure for us, with a briefcase containing two hundred thousand American dollars. Then we will spend the night together, and in the morning, we will part as though we had never met. I look forward to that night, Fei Long-sama,” he went on with a slight bow.

 

The Chinese tong boss looked up at him, not sure what to say. But the assassin stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll give you a call with the details after the deed is done” he said before strolling out with the same nonchalance that he had displayed when he’d entered Fei Long’s office. The lovely Chinese man watched him go, his face a picture of confusion, hurt, rage and sadness. He truly couldn’t believe that Asami had commissioned his death. That it had finally come to this…he covered his eyes with one hand, and sat in silence for a long time.

 

 

The assassin paused on the steps of the building outside and pulled his cell from his pocket once more. He called a number, and a deep voice rumbled out of the phone: “How did it go?”

“Hook, line, and sinker,” he replied in satisfaction. “Are you ready to ‘die’, Asami-san?” he added in amusement.

“Yes. It will be a spectacular production. He won’t trust you even after my ‘demise', you know,” he added warningly.

“I’m aware of that. I simply wish to put him in a position where he’s away from his bodyguards. This is the best way, because who stations their men in the bedroom while they’re having sex? Outside of it, of course…but unless they’re actually in the room with us they will not be effective as protection for him.”

 

“Very good. I will leave the rest of it to you, Araki-kun. All I have to do now is engineer my very public death.”

“Mm. I must say, Asami-san, that I am anticipating this more and more. He truly is a stunning creature. And having met him, I have to agree with you about what you said about his basic nature.”

“Yes. I’m sorry that it has come to this, but…”

“As the Westerners say, Asami-san, he has made his bed... and must now lie in it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami is 'dead', and Fei Long owes the assassin a night of pleasure. How will it all go down?

The phone on Fei Long’s desk rang. He reached to pick it up, starting to greet whoever was on the other line. But a light young voice interrupted him: “It’s done. Turn on the evening news and you’ll see.” 

 

The lovely Chinese man froze in his chair, his heart thundering in his chest, his face a mask. It couldn’t be! The beautiful young assassin known simply as ‘Killer’ couldn’t have done in Asami Ryuichi so quickly. Could he have? He’d only talked to the young Japanese man less than two days ago! He fumbled with the remote on his desk, and then clicked on the t.v. sitting on a stand nearby. It came on, and he moved through the channels until he found a news program. He saw a newswoman with perfectly-coifed hair sitting at a desk. Behind her on a screen was a picture of a car in flames. “This just in,” she was saying. “A car apparently belonging to the influential businessman (and yakuza boss, a fact which went unsaid but was implied) Asami Ryuichi has exploded outside one of his nightclubs. Witnesses say that Asami-san got into his car, which started to pull away from the curb before it exploded. Rescue workers have as yet not been able to retrieve the bodies of Asami Ryuichi and his driver, since the car is still burning. We’ll have more at eleven.” 

 

Fei Long dropped the remote out of a suddenly nerveless hand. He gasped, and the voice on the other end of the phone remarked coolly: “As I said, it’s done. Asami-san is toast – literally - and you owe me two-hundred-thousand in American money, as well as a night with me in the hotel of my choosing. I’ve decided on the Regency, room 341. It’s a nice little suite. I’ll expect you there in one hour with the money. If you don’t show up, I’ll come to the conclusion that you’re reneging on our deal, even if that isn’t the case. And then…” his voice dropped and became ominous, “You’ll be getting a calling card. The last one you’ll ever receive. Is that understood?” 

 

“Yes,” Fei Long replied numbly. “I will be there.” 

 

“Very well. I shall see you then. Wear something pretty,” the light voice commented, before the assassin hung up. 

 

He sat there for a moment in absolute silence and stillness, staring at the far wall. It was done. It was finally done. One of them had succeeded in killing the other. While he’d known that it would come to that one day, it still felt unreal. Perhaps that was partially because he’d hired the services of an assassin, rather than putting a bullet in Asami as he’d always intended to do himself. But no matter how strange or unbelievable it seemed, Asami Ryuichi was dead. And he owed the assassin some money, as well as a night of sex. He had to get going if he wanted to arrive at the Regency before the hour deadline was up. He didn’t want that efficient young killer to come after him. 

 

He rose gracefully to his feet and went to the door. Outside, he told one of his guards: “I will be driving to the bank, and then to the Regency hotel. I will be spending the night in Room 341 with a…friend.” The man looked surprised, but Fei Long merely swept by without giving him time to protest. His guards trailed off after him as he walked toward the front door, and if his heart was in turmoil it didn’t show on his beautiful face. 

 

 

Takayashi Araki set the phone on the desk back into its cradle. He looked at the man sitting across from him. “It’s done. He’ll be there in an hour or less.” Asami Ryuichi nodded calmly. “May I say,” the assassin added, “That that explosion, in public with witnesses, was an act of sheer genius. I bow to you, Asami-san,” he did just that, bowing a bit in his chair. 

 

Asami snorted elegantly. “It had to be something public, so that Fei Long would believe it,” he remarked. “He would have required proof of you otherwise.” 

 

“True. Well, I’d best be going. Don’t want to keep His Loveliness waiting, do I?” the assassin said in amusement. He rose lithely to his feet. 

 

Asami looked up at him gravely. “I won’t ask any of the details,” he said. 

 

The grey eyes narrowed, and went chill. “It’s best not to,” the assassin replied in a soft but deadly tone of voice. “Especially since you like him.”

 

Asami sighed. “Yes, I do,” he conceded. “Which is why this is necessary. But that still doesn’t make it any easier.”

 

“Think of it this way,” Araki said with a wave of one slim hand, “It’s as though he had a festering sore in his leg, because there was thorn buried there. Would you extract the thorn, causing him pain, or would you leave it there until he died of sepsis? What would a friend do?” 

 

The yakuza boss looked up at him. “Perhaps,” he replied dryly, “But you just might be overkill, Takayashi-kun.”

 

“No,” a shake of the dyed-blonde head. “I am EXACTLY what he needs. He just doesn’t know it yet. But he will soon,” he nodded his head at Asami before leaving the yakuza boss’s office. 

 

Asami watched the assassin go, then sighed and got to his own feet. He would be holing up in the country with Akihito for a couple of days, which would be no hardship at all. A dead man should stay dead, after all, at least until the reason for his ‘dying’ in the first place had been taken care of. He would hold the boy in his arms, and try to forget what was happening to Fei Long. He probably wouldn’t be able to, but he would at least try. 

 

 

Fei Long entered the Regency and approached the desk. The clerk stared at the beautiful man in the exquisite rose-and-silver cheongsam as he came up to her. “Excuse me,” he said to her in accented Japanese, “But has Takayashi-kun arrived yet? In Room 341?” 

 

She checked her computers. “Yes, he checked in earlier this afternoon, but he left for a time. He returned about twenty minutes ago. He said to tell his guest to come up as soon as he arrived.” 

 

“Arigatou,” he said to her, and she stared after him with bedazzled eyes as the tall Chinese man with the silky sweep of hair made his way toward the elevators. Her fan-girl sensibilities were wondering why someone this gorgeous was going up to the room of the slim, beautiful youth who’d checked into Room 341 a few hours earlier. Were they going to? Oh, man, she had the sudden urge to fan herself with some of their tourist brochures. Even the thought of these two men actually having sex together…of course, it was probably something more mundane. The Chinese man had been carrying a briefcase. But still…a girl could dream right? 

 

The clerk would probably have fainted dead away if she had known that the rendezvous between Takayashi Araki and Fei Long included a night of wild sex. The Chinese tong leader himself was feeling more ambiguous about it, since while he was attracted to the young assassin, he wasn’t sure how he felt about spending the night with someone who had killed his former friend and current rival. But he simply had no choice, if he didn’t want to end up a beautiful corpse himself. So he rode the elevator to the third floor of the hotel with a faint sigh, trying to work up the enthusiasm for what was to come tonight. 

 

When it arrived at the right floor, he stepped off of it and got his bearings. Finally, he turned left and walked along the carpeted hallway until he reached the door with the numbers ‘341’ on it. He lifted a hand and knocked at the door. After a moment it opened, and the assassin stood in the doorway staring at him. Those amazing grey eyes narrowed in satisfaction. “Greeting, Fei Long-sama,” he husked, stepping back. “Please come inside.” 

 

The Chinese man followed the assassin, as he walked back into the sitting room part of the suite. It was a truly lovely place, and the tong leader’s beauty-loving heart felt approval. Takayashi Araki sat down on one of the cream-colored couches, and indicated that Fei Long should take the other one. The lovely man sat down gracefully, watched by those unreadable grey orbs. “Is that my money?” he asked, nodding at the briefcase in the Chinese man’s hand.

 

“Yes,” Fei Long set it down on the coffee table between the couches.

 

The assassin reached out to pull it over the table, then turned it around and opened it. He made a satisfied sound when he saw the stacks of hundred dollar American bills inside. He didn’t even have to count them to make sure it was all there, because each stack had a paper strip around it with the amount of the stack printed on it. He did take them out one-by-one to make sure that the stacks added up to two hundred grand in American money, but that didn’t take long. At last he looked up at Fei Long. “Very well, Fei Long-sama. Now you only have to fulfill the second part of our bargain, and our contract will be finished.”

 

Fei Long nodded. “I am prepared to do that,” he agreed. 

 

“Good. Would you like something to drink?” the assassin got up and walked over to the mini-bar to pour himself some alcohol.

 

“No thank you. I’m not thirsty,” the Chinese man replied, not wanting to say outright that he wouldn’t be eating or drinking anything that the assassin gave him without a food taster around. He didn’t trust this Takayashi as far as he could throw him. The man was a professional killer, after all, and one who had sold out Asami Ryuichi in favor of more money and a night of sex. How could one trust such a man? 

 

“Okay. Your loss,” the blonde remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. He knocked back a glass of vodka without a grimace. Fei Long lifted his eyebrows a bit at this, but Araki only strolled over to the couch where he was sitting. “Come on then, lovely one, let’s get to it,” he remarked. Fei Long sighed at such crudity, but he got to his feet. The assassin stepped close to him, and reached up to wind his arms around the taller man’s neck.

 

“Come on, baby,” he crooned as he stood a bit on tiptoe to bring his lips close to Fei Long’s. “Kiss me.” 

 

With a last resigned sigh, Fei Long bent his head and kissed the beautiful assassin. That pink mouth opened under his, and a tongue glided into his mouth to twine with his. He found himself becoming more excited, and he ran his hands down the boy’s back to cup and knead that small tight ass. Takayashi made a low sound, and pressed his erection against the front of Fei Long’s cheongsam. Their bodies rubbed together sensually, and they both became lost in the kiss for what seemed like forever.

 

When Fei Long finally lifted his head, that sensual mouth was slightly open and kiss swollen. Low-lidded grey eyes looked up into his, hunger burning in their depths. The Chinese man felt desire rise up in him and was grateful. He wouldn’t have wanted to have sex with someone who didn’t attract him, even though he really had no choice in these circumstances. A sexy little smile slid over the assassin’s lips. “That was great,” he purred. “I can see that this is going to be fun.” 

 

Fei Long had to agree with him. “Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?” he asked softly. 

 

“Sure, why not?” The assassin started to pull away, and his hand brushed against the Chinese man’s neck. Fei Long gasped, as a sudden sharp pain blossomed on his skin, and one of his hands flew up to his neck, as the assassin stepped back calmly. 

 

“What?” he said in bewilderment. 

 

A soft, feral laugh. The blonde assassin lifted his hand to show the tong leader the silver ring on his finger. The top disc had been slid away to reveal a sharp little needle. “I believe that the Europeans used to call these ‘bodkins’ during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance,” he remarked. “Many wore them hidden in rings and other jewelry like this. Mostly they were tipped with poison…” he continued, making a panicked expression pass over Fei Long’s lovely face, “But this one is coated with a drug that will knock you out for a short time. You should be feeling the affects soon…” he went on, and indeed the tong leader could feel a wave of dizziness passing through him. He wavered, swaying, as that light voice went on relentlessly: “I don’t intend to kill you, Fei Long. I simply intend to teach you a lesson that you’ll never forget,” then darkness rushed up and covered him, and the Chinese man knew no more for a long time. 

 

 

 

When he came back to himself, Fei Long felt muzzy and completely out of it. His eyelids felt like there were thousand pound weights hanging off of them, and it seemed to take forever just to get them to lift. But finally they did, and he saw that he wasn’t in the hotel room anymore. This was an unfamiliar space, and there was something strange going on…It took him awhile to realize that he seemed to be standing up, but not exactly. His arms were drawn over his head, and he couldn’t move them at all. At first he thought that it was the remnants of the sedative, but at last he figured out that they were bound above his head. He felt another spurt of panic run through him at this realization, and this shot of adrenaline helped to clear the last of the drug out of his system. He also realized that he was hanging from his arms, that while his feet touched the floor they weren’t flat on it. He tried to cry out, but there was something in his mouth. Something thick and heavy-tasting on his tongue. Some kind of gag. 

 

Moreover…his eyes dropped, and he saw that he was naked. His clothing was nowhere to be seen. His nipples ached, and that was because weights dangled from clamps attached to the sensitive nubs. He started to struggle, and his eyes widened as the last realization hit him. There was something…in his ass! He moved wildly in his bonds, but whatever it was was firmly thrust into his body. After a moment he understood that whatever it was was being kept in place by a leather harness buckled around his waist. Twist though he would, he wouldn’t be ejecting the thing invading and stretching his body anytime soon.

 

He gasped behind the gag, as fear rose up to choke him. Then he heard a familiar light voice speaking nearby, and stiffened in his bonds. “Struggling won’t help, lovely one,” the assassin said as he stepped out of the shadows and came into Fei Long’s line of sight. “It will do you no good, and you might hurt yourself if you struggle too much.” 

 

The Chinese man stared in shock at the beautiful young assassin. Takayashi Araki was clad only in a pair of skin-tight, black leather pants, his tautly muscular upper body bare except for a leather body harness. He had black leather cuffs around his wrists, and he wore a spiked dog collar around his neck. Fei Long could see tattoos on both of his upper arms, as well as one showing above the waistband of the very low rider pants. Both of his nipples were pierced with rings, and his belly button had what looked like a miniature barbell piercing it. His dyed blonde shock of hair had been gelled into stiff spikes, and he was wearing a hint of dark eye shadow. 

 

Suddenly he looked both menacing and deadly, his whole manner that of a serpent coiled to strike at its prey. Or perhaps a tiger, just before it pounced on the helpless gazelle… The assassin smiled slightly as he hefted the thing he held in one hand. Fei Long felt rather faint when he saw that it was a whip. A whip with more than half-a-dozen lashes, rather than just one. “Fei Long,” he said in a low voice that seemed suddenly far deeper than it had been before. “Asami-san wanted me to explain to you what’s going to happen to you before I proceed. Yes, he’s not dead,” he added when Fei Long’s eyes widened, “That was an act put on for your benefit, so that I could get close to you. Please understand,” he went on calmly, “That everything that will happen to you tonight is retribution for what you did to Takaba Akihito. You see, Asami-san did not pick me to do this because I am an assassin – but because I am both a dominant and a sadist.” He met the terrified eyes above the leather gag thrust into Fei Long’s mouth. “Learn this lesson, Fei Long,” Takayashi Araki said. “Take your punishment and learn from it. I promise you…” his voice had gone down to a savage purr, “That I will show you both pleasure and pain such as you have never experienced before.”

A/N: Anybody want to read the next chapter? Comment and let me know! Heh, heh, heh... - DL


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons in pain and pleasure alike...

“We will begin,” the assassin said, lifting the whip in his hand, “With this. Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘the velvet whip’? In this case, that is literal. The lashes,” he held up the whip so that Fei Long could see it clearly, “Are made of strips of velvet. You’d think,” he went of musingly, “That such a whip would hurt less than one made of leather.” His startling grey eyes met the Chinese man’s. “They’d be wrong,” he went on. “It will not permanently damage or scar that gorgeous skin of yours, that’s all. I couldn’t bring myself to scar something so exquisite,” he reached out to lightly run his fingers over the skin of Fei Long’s chest.

He would have pulled away from this touch, but the way he was dangling left him effectively helpless. The assassin smiled faintly at the look in his eyes, and long fingers closed over one of the weights dangling from the Chinese man’s nipples, and tugged at it. Fei Long made a strangled sound behind the gag, at the sharp bolt of pain that ran through him. Araki let go of the weight, and hefted the whip again. He walked around Fei Long slowly, saying nothing, letting the anticipation build. Then he swung his arm back and forward again, and the lashes of the whip struck the Chinese man’s ass in a hard swing. There was a sharp crack in the silence of the room, and the dangling body arched and writhed, as Fei Long screamed behind the leather gag.

The pain was astonishing. Not the bright agony of a normal whip; the skin wasn’t being cut by the lashes. Rather, it was a more muted, but somehow more terrible pain, as the skin of his ass stung and throbbed horribly. He heard an approving sound, and then the whip came down again in a different spot. He writhed, he squirmed desperately against his bonds, and he screamed and sobbed behind the muffling gag. Each fresh assault with the whip seemed worse than the last one, and the assassin made sure to never hit him in the same place twice. So instead of taking it on a patch of skin that already hurt, which might have mitigated it somewhat, instead each stinging lash was fully felt. And it grew even worse, when the assassin finished with his ass and began on his thighs and lower back instead. The tender skin there wasn’t padded by fat like the ass was. It was excruciating, agonizing, so awful that he just couldn’t take it….

 

He slumped in the bonds when the whipping halted. His breath heaved in his chest, and tears streamed down his cheeks. His back, ass and thighs throbbed sullenly, and he was so afraid that the whipping would begin again that he would have begged if he could have spoken. The whip was used to lift his chin, and he looked into those grey eyes through a mist of unshed tears. “Lovely,” the assassin crooned. “Just lovely. I like your tears, Fei Long,” his fingers gathered up some of the moisture. “And it seems…” his hand dropped away from the Chinese man’s cheek and traced down his body instead, “That you appreciated the exquisite pain,” his hand closed over Fei Long’s cock, which the bound man realized in complete, stunned shock was erect. Fingers stroked him, and he arched a bit into that touch.

“You are a pain slut, Fei Long. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be hard now. Some people become involuntarily excited when they’re raped, of course, but not when they’re being tortured, and made to feel great pain. That kind of sensation will keep most men down – but not those who enjoy feeling pain,” he looked deep into the Chinese man’s eyes. “Before this night is through, you will admit – at least to yourself - that you like pain. That you need it. That you crave it. Moreover, you will understand the truth about yourself – you have the soul of a submissive, Fei Long. This is not surprising. Many men who are in total control, not only of their own lives but of the world around them, need a place where they aren’t in control. Where someone else is in control of them. It makes them more relaxed, happier, and far more effective in the rest of their life.”

He stepped away briefly, and returned with a cock ring in his hand. He buckled this tightly around Fei Long’s cock and balls, and then rubbed his thumb over the leaking tip. Fei Long made a muffled whimper behind the gag.

The assassin walked around him again. He reached out, and scratched his nails lightly over the dark red welts rising on the lovely man’s ass. Fei Long jerked and cried out desperately, then yelped as those fingertips then pinched sharply at the same welts. Then they slid down to the thing in his ass. “Here’s a little more sensation for you,” Araki commented, just before he turned the vibrator on.

Fei Long screamed again, this time in pleasure, as the thing in his ass began to buzz inside of him. It seemed to have been inserted so that the tip was right on his prostate, and the stimulation was so intense that he nearly blacked out from it. His hips bucked and writhed, as he tried desperately to get away from it. But there was no way to do that, and he felt like his brain was going to explode. He was trembling, his body rocking, when the vibration suddenly ceased. He went limp, moaning, feeling like his nerves were all crackling wildly.

“I told you I’d show you both pleasure and pain such as you’d never known before,” he heard Araki comment coolly from behind him. Then the man stepped back in front of him. “I will push you to your limits and beyond tonight. Usually I only do this with those who are willing, who want the pain and pleasure that I give them. Moreover, if this were a normal scene you would have both safe words, and other ways to stop me if you felt you were being pushed too hard. But yours is a special case. You are a man who doesn’t like to be out of control in any situation. You would never voluntarily submit to someone like me. So you will be forced to now, whether you wish it or not.”

He reached out and dragged his nails down Fei Long’s chest. Red lines appeared in their wake. When he reached the tender skin of the Chinese man’s lower abdomen near his hip, Araki pinched sharply at it hard enough to bruise. “In some cases,” the assassin said in a detached, almost clinical tone of voice, “Pain and pleasure become one. Most people see them as being complete opposites – but a few understand that one often begets the other. That the pain makes all pleasure more exquisite,” his hand slid down, and he squeezed the balls tightly bound up in the cock ring. Fei Long groaned behind his gag. “Some also understand,” the assassin went on, tracing the Chinese man’s skin until he could pinch at the tender skin of his inner thighs, “That to submit to another is to leave oneself open in a way that normal people cannot begin to imagine. It is a breaking down of barriers, a way to literally bare one’s very soul to another person. There is nothing more intimate, more frightening, or more ecstatic than the act of submission. I know,” he added as he gave a particularly vicious pinch to Fei Long’s left inner thigh, “Because to become a dom one must spend time as a sub. To understand the things that will happen to your sub, to experience all of the pain and pleasure they will come to know. To be able to do it right,” he added, running his open hand over the lovely man’s flank. “So that you don’t end up permanently hurting or mentally scarring your sub. To do that is to fail as a dom and a man both.”

He ended up with his chest pressed to Fei Long’s back. He reached around and removed the nipple clamps, and the Chinese man gasped in relief. But this relief was short lived, however; fingertips closed over the swollen nubs and began to twist them. A mouth buried itself in the side of his neck, and began to suck roughly at the skin. He cried out, twisting again, but he wasn’t in a good enough position to be able to get away from the pain blossoming in his abused nipples or the now bruised skin of his throat. Teeth nipped lightly at his clavicle. A nose pushed into his hair. “Such lovely hair,” Araki commented in his ear. Then teeth closed on the lobe, worrying at it.

Fei Long had become nothing but a mass of sensations now. His wrists and arms hurt from being pulled over his head, his nipples throbbed, and his back, ass and thighs were one big mass of pain. Bruises on his neck, thighs, and lower stomach twinged. But to his horror, his cock was still hard. It throbbed, too, twitching in the encasing cock ring as hands slid over his skin almost tenderly. He shuddered, closing his eyes. He felt a great sense of shame that he was enjoying these things; it would have been far easier to take if he’d just experienced this as torture, and hadn’t responded at all. He remembered how Akihito had gotten hard, even though he’d been tearing the boy’s asshole up with his nails; the photojournalist had accused both him and Asami of being sadists. Yes, he’d replied as his cock had slipped into the boy’s tight body, but since you’re enjoying this you must be a masochist. He’d been right, of course; but that meant that he himself was one, as well…

He felt those hands arrive at the leather harness holding the vibrator inside of him. They went to work on the buckles, and he shivered in relief (and a very small bit of disappointment, as well) as the harness was pulled away. The vibrator was yanked out, and he gave a great gasping sob to feel it being removed. Silence, nothing, and then fingers spread his buttocks. He cried out at the pain of fingers squeezing the reddened, welted cheeks, but it turned into a cry of shocked pleasure as a mouth closed over his anus. Fei Long arched and cried out, as the assassin began to relentlessly tongue his asshole, sucking and licking at the twitching ring until pleasure swamped him, and he could only dangle helplessly as the assault went on. Thumbs widened him as that tongue wriggled into his body, and Fei Long shrieked behind the gag, and pushed his ass backward in a desperate, involuntary movement.

Teeth nipped lightly at the sensitive tissue, as the tongue was finally withdrawn. Then a spit-moistened finger invaded his body as Araki purred: “You have a very tight, very nice little hole back here, my lovely slut. I look forward to feeling it around me as I fuck you.”

Fei Long’s neck arched, and the muscles in his stomach quivered, as the finger wormed its way in and found his prostate. A tongue licked and lapped at his shoulder blade, since the assassin had risen to his feet once more. “Pleasure,” he nipped at the skin as his fingertip struck the Chinese man’s prostate at the same time, “And pain. There are so many other tings that I would like to do to you. Shall I tell you what some of them are?” he continued to prod Fei Long’s prostate as he spoke. “I would like to chain you at my feet, and beat you with a crop. I would also like to stick things in your dick – catheter tubes, metal sounds, and oh, so many things that would make you come so hard you’d pass out from the pleasure. I would like to use metal clips on your skin, drip candle wax on you, stick pins in you until you begged me to fuck you. I would like to strap you to a cross, and torment you for hours. I would like to make you lick my feet, drink my piss, eat my ass at a snap of my fingers. And when I was done, you would kiss my hand and thank me for it,” He laughed lowly, when he felt the way the Chinese man’s body was quivering at his words.

“But unfortunately,” he added, “I don’t have time to do all of that to you tonight. And since you’re a beginner, it would be unwise to subject you to too much at once. Ah, well,” he kissed the side of Fei Long’s neck. “All we have is tonight, lovely one – so let us make the best of it.”

He slid away, walking off into the shadows again for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a silver foil packet, and a tube of lubrication in his hands. “I know that I’m clean,” he said, holding up the condom packet, “But since I don’t know about you, Fei Long, I won’t be taking any chances. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

One of his hands began on the laces at the front of his leather pants. He never looked away from the Chinese man’s eyes as he did this. Those grey eyes seemed to bore into his, staring into his very soul. Fei Long cringed a little, at the thought of what the assassin might be seeing there. Then the laces were undone, and the assassin reached into the pants to pull out his cock. It was big, startlingly big for such a lean, almost skinny man. He held it in his hand and stroked it lightly, letting Fei Long watch. “It will hurt when it stick this in you,” he said. His lips lifted in a wicked, sensual smile. “But it’s a pain that you’ll adore. Won’t you? I won’t tear you, but it will still hurt. And once I’ve fucked your ass into submission, perhaps I’ll even let you come,” his grey eyes fell to the lovely man’s cock, which jumped in the cock ring as he stared down at it. That smile widened, and the eyes took on a feral gleam.

The assassin slowly rolled the condom on over his cock, then opened the tube. “Going in roughly with no lube is irresponsible. The point of submitting is to trust your dom, to know that he won’t hurt you beyond what you can take. There are two types of pain – the type that added to your pleasure, and the type that destroys it completely. To indulge in the second kind makes one a bad dom. And even a bad sadist, since where would you find a masochist willing to take what you dish out if you hurt them too much and they become afraid of you? A sub should never be afraid of his dom.” He finished smoothing on the lube with his fingers.

“Perhaps it seems like I’m lecturing you,” he noted as he began to walk toward Fei Long. “But I am simply giving you the precious gift of knowledge. It is best to understand any experience you go through, so that you can learn from it and grow. If this were just a case of my punishing you for Asami-san, this scenario might have played out a bit differently. But he wished me to teach you something, so that you could come to an understanding of your own true nature. He knew that his threat to kill you would be enough of a deterrent to keep you away from Takaba Akihito, so there was no reason for him to have me do this to you. Except,” he stepped around Fei Long’s body and came to stand behind him, “The fact that you are struggling. You are in pain, you don’t know what you want and need. Oddly enough, it hurt him to see you like that. So he asked me to help you. And so I shall.”

He began to push himself into Fei Long’s body, which had been stretched enough to take him, but not enough to make it pain free. He moaned and struggled weakly, but that big cock relentlessly slid into him. “Give up,” that voice urged as a hand lifted his long hair. “Submit, and it won’t be so bad for you. This is what you need, this is what you are – accept it, Fei Long.”

But he couldn’t. He sobbed softly behind the gag as that big thing was seated in him all the way, and the assassin paused for a moment. That hand stroked his hair, and a mouth planted kisses on his skin. He shuddered, caught once more between pain and pleasure. “I am your Master,” the assassin said, his voice commanding. “Tonight, now, you are my slave. Whether you are willing to admit it or not,” he bit down on Fei Long’s shoulder, as he began to drive into the other man’s body slowly but surely.

Fei Long swayed, dangled, helpless as Araki fucked him relentlessly. The burning pain of the stretching passed away, and something else began to take its place. Hands stroked, scratched, and pinched at his skin, and the contact of the other man’s hips on his welted thighs and ass made him groan with the combination of pain and pleasure. That voice went on speaking in his ear, telling him implacably of his true status here, and his true nature both. He tried not to listen, but the assassin’s voice was oddly compelling. The commanding tone in it made him want to react, to hear it, to respond in the way it was telling him to…

A hand curled over his trapped cock and stroked, as Araki continued to plow his ass. He struggled again, because the pleasure was too great and he didn’t want to give in to it, any more than he did to the pain. But there was no escape, and he sobbed and writhed with no relief in sight. Oh, Gods, he was going to go mad…How long had this gone on? It seemed like an eternity, as though that cock had always been inside of him, and that hand had always been caressing him. He made choked sounds that were horribly like pleading behind the gag, and he knew, to his horrified shame, that if he could have spoken right at this moment he would have begged and pleaded for some kind of relief. He was almost grateful for it now. “I think you’re about ready,” Araki said behind him. Fingertips tweaked at the tip of his cock. “I think I’ll let you come first this time – but know that it's because I choose to let you,” his hand went to work on the straps of the cock ring, and Fei Long heard a weird keening starting in the back of his throat, as the assassin removed the straps and buckles and tossed them onto the floor.

 

Then long fingers grabbed him, pulled at his cock, and he screamed and screamed, as he came so violently that he nearly blacked out. He didn’t care that that thick cock was still driving in him, and when a low groan behind him told him that the other man had come within him. The cock was drawn out of his body, and he lay in his bonds, with his head hanging to his chest. Hands lifted and cradled his head, and the gag was pulled out of his mouth. It felt so dry that he couldn’t work up enough spit to speak. His head was released for a moment, and then lifted again, so that he could drink thirstily from a bottle of water. He gulped it all down, then hands went to work on the bonds holding his wrist above his head. He might have fought, or tried to kick the assassin once he was released, but he simply didn’t have the energy left to do so.

He was lowered to the floor, then as he lay on the wonderfully cool concrete, the other man left and returned once more with another tube. But this turned out to be a soothing cream that he spread onto Fei Long’s back, ass and thighs. As he worked, Araki commented: “I hope that you learn this lesson, Fei Long, I truly do. You are an exquisite man – and one in a great deal of emotional pain. Hopefully this will help you find some peace.” He drew a blanket over the tong boss’s sweat-coated body. “I’ll call your men, and tell them where to find you,” he went on. “If you start to feel better, your clothes are over there,” he waved off into the shadows."If you can get dressed, no one but your personal attendant need know exactly what happened to you. I know how hard it would be on a tong boss for his men to find out that he’d been raped and humiliated. I’ll be going now. If we never see each other again – I’ll remember this experience for a long time to come. Something tells me you will as well,” he bent over to kiss Fei Long’s chapped lips lightly, before he got up and walked away, leaving the Chinese man lying on the floor barely able to think or move.


	5. Chapter 5

Asami Ryuichi looked at the man sitting across from him. The assassin Takayashi Araki was leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, an enigmatic expression on his face. Asami had called this meeting ostensibly to talk about a job, but he really had something else on his mind. He sighed, sipping at his water before he began: “It has been a few weeks since you enacted that scene with Fei Long. Since then he has returned to China, and I haven’t heard much from my spies except that he’s being very quiet and acting a bit odd,” his eyes found those startling grey ones, and he went on quietly: “And what about you, Araki-kun?”

A lifting of dark brows. “What do you mean, Asami-san?” the assassin asked, his beautiful face completely blank.

Asami shook his head. “You can pretend that this didn’t affect you at all, Araki-kun, but I know better. When I met you in that club…” his mind flashed back to the past, to several years ago. He’d entered a D/s club out of sheer prurient curiosity, and had looked around with a combination of faint excitement and a certain amount of unease. Some of the things he’d seen had turned him on, but others had not – like the whole Master/slave scenario. While the bondage and some of the other sado-masochistic things were exciting, he’d discovered almost right away that he wasn’t a true dominant. He’d always had a powerful personality, but that wasn’t quite the same as being a Master to a slave who would grovel at your feet. He’d always wanted a strong uke that would stand up to him – which was why he liked Akihito so much. There was a boy who’d never be a slave, because he was just too wild and free. Not even Asami could hold him, which was fine. He liked the chase as much as anything.

It was there that he’d seen a very young-looking Dom putting on a show on one of the stages. Asami had been attracted to his beauty, and had stayed to watch the amazing show that he’d put on. That submissive had been totally ecstatic, completely attuned to the young but commanding man both punishing and pleasuring him at the same time. One of the hosts of the club had told Asami the name of this particular Dom, and that Araki was a favorite around the club, because he had no sub of his own. So whenever he strolled in the place, unattached subs (or occasionally a sub whose dom wanted him to do a scene with Araki) would instantly glom all over the blonde. He could then take his pick of which one he wanted to use, and the lucky sub picked would have the scene of a lifetime. The host had also told Asami that there were subs who hadn’t wanted to return to their Masters after Araki had scened with them. But the slim man never showed any preferences, or seemed interested in taking a permanent slave of his own, much to the disappointment of every unattached sub in the place.

Asami had been fascinated by the cool, detached beauty of this very powerful dominant. He’d watched the entire scene, and afterward had approached the stage to ask Araki if he could buy the Dom a drink. The blonde had agreed, and in the course of the subsequent conversation had both learned the identity of the other. Asami had been pleased that this deceptively young-looking creature was, in fact, the very skilled assassin known only as ‘Killer’, as he always had use for a professional in his line of work. They’d formed an odd sort of friendship over the last two years since then, which is why he’d immediately thought of Araki when he knew that something had to be done about Fei Long. Hanging out around a dominant, especially in a D/s club, had given Asami the ability to recognize a person who was a potential submissive. And the Chinese man had shown all of the signs, whether he knew it or not.

 

Asami simply hoped that Araki had opened Fei Long’s eyes, had made him see what he really was. But above and beyond that…he looked at the assassin again, his eyes intense. “It’s been how long since you were with him? And in that time, you haven’t once set foot in the club. I know, I asked the hosts to tell me if you came in. They said that you hadn’t. Isn’t that a little unusual for you?”

He knew that it was. Araki went to the club every few days, or every few weeks if he was on a job. For him to go for almost a month without setting foot in the place…that was beyond unusual. The grey eyes narrowed, and the assassin spat: “It’s none of your business, Asami-san.”

The yakuza boss heard the anger reverberating in the surprisingly deep voice, and had to conceal a triumphant smile. It looked like Fei Long had gotten to the assassin, just as much as Araki had gotten to the tong leader. “Perhaps not,” he conceded aloud, "But then, perhaps it is. I brought you in to show Fei Long that he was a submissive partially because we were once friends. I still care about him, and I’d like to see him be a bit happier. And in your own odd way, you have also become a friend, Araki-kun. So if you could BOTH be happy at the same time, I don’t see what the drawbacks are…”

A compression on the sensual mouth. “Don’t you?” Araki replied coldly. “I forced myself on him, Asami-san. I took away his right to choose, and his ability to protest what was happening to him. Do you think he’s going to welcome me with open arms? Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

Asami surprised him by chuckling. “And since when do you care about being welcomed with open arms, Araki-kun? You’re a Master – he would be your slave. Slaves don’t get to choose, do they? Just make him understand what his role is in your relationship, and show him the Dom I’ve seen on stage at the club over and over again. You have subs throwing themselves at your feet and begging you to whip them bloody. Do you really believe that Fei Long will be immune to that gift? That he’ll reject you if you show him that Master once again? Or is it something else…fear, perhaps?” he went on in a rather purry voice.

The grey eyes narrowed even more, to near slits. “Just what are you implying, Asami-san?” the voice had gone deadly, but the yakuza boss refused to flinch.

 

“What I’m implying,” he said coolly, “Is that you’re not afraid that he’ll reject you…you’re afraid that he’ll ACCEPT you. I’ve never seen you take on a sub for more than one night at a time – up until now, I just thought that it was because you were picky and waiting for the right sub to come along so that you could collar him permanently. But now I’m beginning to think that you’re afraid of finding that special person, the one who makes you want to put that collar around his throat, marking him as your property…Is that it, Araki-kun? Are you afraid of what you might have with him? Are you afraid that it’ll make you feel something?” his voice was taunting, and a muscle clenched and jumped in the assassin’s jaw.

“You go too far, Asami-san,” he grated. “You presume too much on our friendship…”

“I’d be a poor friend indeed if I let this go,” Asami replied sharply. “To both you and Fei Long, as well. You have a unique opportunity here, Araki-kun. Who knows if one like it will ever come around again? Are you going to throw it away out of fear, or are you going to take what is being offered to you? Just what kind of man are you, anyway? And, as for forcing a man making it impossible for you to get close to him again, I would point out that my first few times with Akihito-kun were definitely not consensual, at all. Yet he shares my bed willingly now. So that’s not the best excuse, is it?”

 

Silence. The assassin’s fingers drummed on the tabletop in a staccato rhythm. At last he said: “You’re absolutely right, Asami-san, much as I do not like to admit it. I have always been uneasy about the idea of collaring a slave – it seems far too permanent an action for me. Especially considering my ‘career’. I live a dangerous life, after all.”

“So does he,” Asami pointed out. “There are always rivals willing to hire men like you to take him out. In fact…” he gave Araki a thoughtful look. “Fei Long could use a skilled bodyguard. One who knows all of the tricks of an assassin, who could protect him properly…”

Araki’s brows lifted as he stared at the yakuza boss. “A good idea,” he said. “I will think about it, Asami-san. Now was there anything else you needed from me?”

“No,” Araki shook his head. “I’m afraid that a potential job was simply my pretext for bringing you here and discussing Fei Long with you. I am sorry,” he added, sounding not very contrite.

A snort. “Of course you are. If that’s it, I’ll be going,” the assassin rose to his feet and left without saying another word. Asami watched him go, hoping that there was a man with a lot on his mind right now.

 

 

Takayashi Araki stood in the specialty jeweler’s shop and considered the offerings in the case before him. “I must say,” the jewel-smith commented, “That I’m surprised to see you in here, Takayashi-kun. The person you’re shopping for must be…unusual.”

“You could call him that, yes,” the assassin replied calmly, his eyes still moving over the selection within the case. Finally, they came to rest on one piece. “Could you take that one out so that I can look at it?” he pointed at the one that had caught his attention, and the smith smiled slightly as he unlocked the case and picked up the piece. 

 

“You have good taste, Takayashi-kun – this is one of my favorite of my pieces, I’ve got to say,” he held it out to the assassin, who took it in his fingers.

It looked like a necklace, a silver necklace made of cherry blossoms and leaves. The center of each blossom was a tiny opal, and the center of the piece was a round silver disk stamped with symbols. Symbols that simply said ‘mine’ in kanji. It was long enough that it could be hidden even under a low neckline, since slaves didn’t wear their collars for the edification of the normal populace. They wore them openly only around other doms and subs, to show off the fact that someone owned them. Collaring a slave was even more permanent than marriage, and the relationship was generally only broken when one of the pair died. Araki turned the piece over in his long fingers, frowning down at it. This collar represented such a big step in the life of a master that it simply could not be taken lightly.

He was thinking about how this piece would look around Fei Long’s neck. He had an image of the Chinese man naked, except for this collar and some leather bondage gear. Of that lovely creature kneeling at his feet, eyes on the floor, his whole attitude one of graceful submissiveness to Araki’s will. His body stirred even at this thought, and his jaw clenched again. Damn it, he could no longer pretend to himself that that night had meant nothing to him. Asami was right – it was more than unusual for him to stay away from the club for almost a month. But he simply hadn’t felt like it; had been restless and irritable for the last few weeks. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything, not even his work. He was going to end up dead if he weren’t careful. An assassin always had to be aware of everything and to plan down to the last detail. A distracted assassin was a dead assassin. Perhaps it was time to get out of the game, to do something else.

 

“How much is it?” he asked the jewel-smith.

The man named an exorbitant price, but the piece was definitely worth it. Araki handed him a credit card, and waited patiently while the smith put the piece into a black velvet box for him. Then he accepted the bag containing his purchase before leaving the store. He had some things to take care of before he caught a plane.

 

Fei Long sat behind his desk and stared sightlessly down at the papers in front of him. He was supposed to be reading them over, but they could have been written in Aramaic for all that he could decipher them. He looked blindly down at the black symbols on the white paper, his mind far away. He barely noticed when his attendant came in with a pot of tea and set it on his desk. The boy gave him a concerned look before he left, for his boss hadn’t been himself for the last month or so.

The boy, at least, knew partly why that was. He’s seen the whip marks of Fei Long’s body, as well as the scratches, bruises, and the swollen, red nipples. While the tong boss wouldn’t talk about it, the boy had, of course, guessed that his master had been tortured and raped. It was the lovely Chinese man’s reaction to what had happened to him that had baffled the boy completely. Instead of crying or getting angry, or showing any signs of post traumatic stress disorder from his ordeal(the boy had done some research on the internet after Fei Long had returned to Honk Kong), the tong leader had simply been rather quiet and withdrawn. He didn’t exactly seem upset, just confused and bewildered about something. And he seemed to be thinking a lot. The boy didn’t know about what.

But the thing that had shocked him the most was what had happened one night when he’d been bringing his master a late evening snack of tea and cookies. He’d started to knock at the door, but he’d heard what sounded like a groan of pain from inside. He’d felt fear rush through him, thinking that someone was hurting his master. So he’d pushed the door open, but what he’d seen inside the room had made him freeze in the doorway. Fei Long had been kneeling up on his bed naked, and from the buzzing sound the boy had realized that there was a vibrator in his ass. Moreover, the lovely man had been twisting his own nipples harshly, making whimpering noises in the back of his throat as he did so. There were fresh scratches on his skin from his long nails, and bruises from where he’d clearly hit and pinched himself. His neck had been arched, his mouth open, and the ecstasy on his beautiful face had shocked the boy.

Fei Long had finally become aware of the boy frozen in the doorway, and had turned a harsh glare on him. “Get out!” he‘d screamed, and the boy had scurried away in terror. Although neither of them had mentioned this incident, the boy had taken to staying away from his Master’s room in the evenings, and Fei Long said very little to the child whenever he was attending to his Master. He might have thought that the tong leader was angry at him for walking in on that, but had realized quickly that it was embarrassment that his Master was feeling instead. 

 

 

Fei Long was glad to see the boy leave. Shame ran through him whenever he had to look at the boy. He shouldn’t…want what he wanted. After what had happened to him in that warehouse(he’d only realized that was what it was after Araki had left and his men had arrived), he should have been traumatized and sickened. But that simply wasn’t so. Instead, he was being tormented by memories of the sensations he’d felt that night, of the terrible, wonderful mingling of pleasure and pain. He’d had sex with only two people since that night, and both times had left him feeling unfulfilled and empty. He couldn’t ask the pretty little boys he slept with to hit or deliberately hurt him – they would have freaked out and run away in terror. So he was left with what he could do on his own, and each time he felt shame and horror at his inability to stop doing this to himself.

He rubbed at his forehead wearily. He wasn’t sleeping well anymore, and he felt exhausted all the time now. His mind refused to work properly - he was having a harder time even running his business or giving orders to his men. And he had no idea how to fix the situation. He couldn’t simply walk into a D/s club and offer himself as a submissive to be trained. A man in his position couldn’t be caught doing the things that he needed to do. If either one of his own men or one of his enemies saw him at such a place, he would lose control of his organization. And his death would follow soon after. He was trapped, unable to get what he needed, and so was left to suffer alone.

 

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he said, and one of his men entered.

 

“Sir, there is a man here to see you,” he said with a slight bow. “He says that he has some important business to discuss with you. He gave me his card,” he handed a white square to Fei Long across the desk.

He looked at the card – and felt such a surge of shock go through him that it left him reeling. There was only a single black symbol printed on the card. It was in kanji, and said only one word: Killer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Araki has a proposition for Fei Long. Will he accept it, or will he kill Araki on the spot?

Fei Long froze, the card in his hands trembling faintly. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice speaking from the doorway: “Good afternoon, Fei Long-sama. Have you time to see me?” It was the assassin’s light, young voice, rather than the one he’d used in the warehouse. 

 

His man whirled around. “You should have waited outside,” he said chidingly. “Until I came to tell you that he would see you.” 

 

“Gomen,” Araki replied, sounding not at all sorry. Somehow Fei Long got his eyes to work. He lifted them to see the beautiful young assassin standing - nay, lounging in the doorway, looking not at all like the man who’d worked him over that night. He forced his mouth to speak.

 

“I will see him, Cho. Please leave, and close the door behind you,” he was amazed and somewhat disturbed about how calm he sounded. His man bowed and left the room, casting a last wary glance at the young Japanese man as he went by. Apparently his instincts were good enough that they were telling him just how dangerous this person actually was. But he went out, and the door clicking shut behind him, sounded like a thunderclap to Fei Long.

 

He flinched a little, as those arresting grey eyes met his. “It has been some time since we saw one another,” Araki noted, strolling into the room in a leisurely fashion. “Have you missed me, Fei Long?” his voice was caressing. 

 

The tong boss stiffened, and one hand went to the drawer of his desk. “Not yet I haven’t,” he hissed, and suddenly there was a gun in his hand. He pointed it at Araki, who came to a halt a few feet away. The blonde spread his hands out in front of him, but didn’t look terribly frightened. 

 

“Are you going to shoot me?” he asked, sounding more interested than anything else. 

 

The gun was wavering in his grip. Fei Long tried to get a firmer hold on it. “After what you did to me, I should definitely kill you!” he snarled.

 

Araki nodded. “You should,” he agreed easily, “But will you? That is the real question.” He paused, and one of his hands began to dip toward the picket of the jacket he was wearing. 

 

“Don’t move!” the tong boss screamed, and his hand stopped. 

 

“I don’t have a gun,” Araki said soothingly. “But I DO have something for you in this pocket. May I take it out and show it to you?” His polite voice and calm demeanor were getting on Fei Long’s nerves. He kept expecting that man from the warehouse to appear…he ignored a shaft of disappointment inside of himself that that man hadn’t yet shown his face.

 

“If you take anything from that pocket, do it slowly and carefully or I will shoot you,” Fei Long rasped.

 

Araki nodded, slowly dipping his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a long black velvet box from within it, holding it up for the tong boss to see. “May I put this on your desk so that you can look at it?” he asked next, still very polite and calm. It made Fei Long want to scream in frustrated fury.

 

Seeing his expression, Araki very slowly and carefully took the few steps to the desk, and put the box down on top of it. He slid it toward the tong leader. “Open it,” he said, and there was the first hint of command in his voice. Fei Long found himself obeying it automatically, reaching out for the box with his free hand. Inside of the box was an astonishing necklace. He stared at it, wondering why this man had come all the way to Hong Kong to give him jewelry. 

 

He heard a soft laugh at the flummoxed expression on his face, and when he looked up Araki’s face had transformed. He gasped when he saw that face, the face that had haunted his dreams for the last month now… “It’s a slave collar,” the Dominant said, his voice deepening slowly but surely. “Not a necklace. If you put it around your beautiful neck, Fei Long, you’ll be admitting that you belong to ME. And you won’t take it off again after that…ever.” A shiver wracked his body. He stared down at the silver necklace helplessly. No, not a necklace…a COLLAR. His free hand flew to his throat in an instinctive gesture. 

 

“Put it on,” Araki continued relentlessly, “And admit the truth about yourself. Or shoot me here and now and be done with it. Go on living your life full of lies. It’s your choice this time, Fei Long. Kill me and go on being a repressed person, or give yourself to me. Submit, and be happy. Choose.” 

His voice was…the command in it made Fei Long feel confused and disoriented. The gun was shaking badly in his grip now, and his breath was panting in his chest. He couldn’t seem to look away from the necklace - no, collar - and there was a strange little keening sound coming from somewhere. It took him a moment to realize that HE was actually making that sound. 

“I will do so many things to you,” Araki’s voice went on relentlessly, speaking over his bowed head, “Whip you, beat you, and hurt you in so many ways. I’ll show you new meanings of the word ‘bondage’. You’ll grovel at my feet…and you’ll love every moment of it. You’ll adore everything I do to you. If you don’t, you can speak your safe words, and I’ll stop what I’m doing immediately. You have nothing to lose, Fei Long, except this illusion that you’re the one in charge of every aspect of your life. In one place - the bedroom - I will be in charge. You can give it up there, and just be yourself. Think of the freedom of being able to give up your control to someone else, of not having to be always in command…” his voice was seductive, terrible, whispering to Fei Long of a future that he’d never imagined, but suddenly hungered after terribly… 

“I…can’t,” he choked.

“Why not?” Araki asked. 

“B-Because…if anyone ever finds out about this, I am a dead man,” his voice was flat and dreary. 

“Ah. I see. But no one ever need understand our REAL relationship, Fei Long,” the assassin replied calmly.

“How can they not?! If I put this on…” his slender fingers hovered over the beautiful collar, wanting to touch it. “Everyone will know,” he continued.

“No,” Araki replied implacably. “They will not. You will not show that collar to anyone except me or other doms and subs. It is my mark of possession - it is not for anyone else to see except for those who know what it means. You will wear it under your cheongsams, hidden from everyone’s sight. But you’ll know that it's there and what it means.” 

Fei Long shivered, his whole body trembling. “But people will still know,” he whispered. “By the way you treat me.”

“When we are in public together, you will simply be my employer,” Araki replied, making those lovely brown eyes fly to his at last. “I will be your newest bodyguard,” he continued, “And if I’m not as subservient as the others, they will understand, because you will make it known what my former occupation was. No one will expect a deadly assassin to kow tow to anyone. They’ll think it a great coup, in fact, that you managed to hire my services as a bodyguard. They’ll envy you.”

 

It was true. He knew it was. “But…how would we be able to conceal the fact that we’re lovers?” Fei Long asked, unable to conceal the hope or wistfulness in his voice. 

 

A soft but deadly laugh. “We won’t. Everyone will know that I share your bed; they will simply be kept ignorant of what truly goes on there. People will assume that I’m your pretty boy uke, and you will be envied even more to have such a creature in your bed. I might even hang on you a bit when we’re out in public, as your adoring but deadly young lover,” his lips lifted on one side. “So once again I say to you - shoot me or put it on, Fei Long. Make your choice.” 

 

His eyes went back to the collar. Such a huge decision - his life would change forever if he picked it up and put it on. All he had to do was pull the trigger, and his entire problem would go away. Or would it? Wouldn’t he continue to be tormented by secret urges and desires? Would it eventually drive him insane? Araki’s plan was the only way that he could get what he craved so much, and if done right it could be pulled off. The secret aspect of their relationship need never be known outside the bedroom. 

With trembling fingers, he reached out to pick up the silver collar. He heard a soft exhalation from Araki, proving that the assassin hadn’t been entirely sure of what he would do. Fei Long took a deep breath of his own, then set the gun down on his desktop and used both hands to reach up and fix the collar around his neck. He couldn’t quite believe he was doing this - but a momentous peace seemed to descend upon him when he finally got it clasped around his neck. 

“Excellent,” that deep voice purred. “You have done well, lovely one. Now come here,” he obeyed that voice automatically, standing up and rounding his desk. “Kneel down in front of me,” the commanding voice said, and Fei Long did so gracefully. “For now on when we’re alone you’ll look at the floor unless I tell you otherwise. Is that understood?” 

He nodded, staring at the floor underfoot. “You will say, ‘Yes Master’ whenever I ask you a question,” Araki told him. “Is that clear?” 

“Yes, Master,” Fei Long replied in a soft voice. His whole body quivered, but at the same time he felt such release that it was a wonder that he didn’t ooze to the floor completely.

A hand closed over his chin. Fingers stroked the skin tenderly. “That is good. Very good. You’re going to be an excellent slave, boy. Put your hands behind your back.” The Chinese man did as he was told. He heard a zipper being pulled, but he didn’t look up. He mustn’t look up; his Master had said that he must look at the floor at all times… 

“You can look up now, boy,” Araki’s voice said. He lifted his eyes to that deceptively young and beautiful face. There was a look of approval on that face that made his stomach flutter and his heart beat too fast. “Now you’re going to suck my cock,” his Master told him. “I want to see how good you are at it. I’m sure that you can use some training…But for now just show me what you can do.”

“Yes, Master,” Fei Long replied before leaning forward (something that wasn’t easy with his hands behind his back), and enclosing that thick cock in his mouth as best he could. Hands settled in his long hair to help him move. He almost choked, but he was determined to show that he had at least some prowess in this art. 

 

“That’s very good, boy,” his Master crooned, and he felt a spurt of happiness go through him that his Master liked the way he gave head. Contentedly he began to suck at the length in his throat, and never in his entire life had Fei Long ever felt so at peace with himself and his world.

 

Epilogue:

 

Asami walked into the D/s club two months later. He looked around, seeing who was in the place, and his eyes came to rest on a familiar figure. Araki was seated in a high-back chair, wearing a pair of leather pants and an unbuttoned white silk shirt, with leather bracers at his wrists. He held a whip in one hand, and was idly tapping it against the back of the naked man kneeling next to him. This exquisite creature wore only a leather body harness, cuffs that drew his arms tightly behind his back, and a silver necklace around his throat. A ball gag was thrust into his mouth, and there was a cock ring around his erection. Asami could see that his nipples had been pierced with silver rings, and that a fine chain had been threaded through these rings. Weights depended downward from the chain, heavy weights that must have hurt like hell.

The yakuza boss would have winced in sympathy, except for the fact that he suspected that the slave loved the pain that went along with the pulling on his tender nipples. The slave’s long hair had been pulled back behind his head and secured with several silver butterfly clips, gifts from his doting master no doubt. Asami could also see that the lovely man’s ass, thighs and lower back were scored from a recent beating. He wondered if that had taken place on the stage, as he made his way toward the pair. “Hello, Araki-kun,” he said to the Dominant. “I haven’t seen you in here for some time.” 

The slave tensed a bit at the sound of his voice, but being well-trained didn’t look up. Araki nodded at Asami. “Asami-san. No, I’ve been busy. Training my lovely one, here,” he ran his free hand down the glossy dark hair of his slave’s head. “He’s coming along very well. I decided to show him off so that everyone can see how beautifully-trained he is. Also, my employer has some business here in Japan at the same time,” he added, making Asami’s lips twitch.

“Killing two birds with one stone?” he said in amusement. 

“Yes. Boy, look up at Asami-san. Let him see you,” this command made the Chinese slave raise his head, his brown eyes meeting the yakuza boss’s. Asami looked him over, seeing the serenity in that gaze. The hatred and twisted obsession that had been there whenever Fei Long looked at him was gone. The slave knew and cared only about his Master and his Master’s wishes, not about this man who had once been an enemy. Asami was pleased to see his former nemesis looking so blissfully happy. 

“Hello, Fei Long,” he said quietly. “You’re looking well.” The slave couldn’t answer, of course, because of the gag. But his eyelashes fell over his eyes modestly. Araki nudged him with a booted foot. 

“Nod at Asami-san if you’re happy, boy,” he said commandingly. There was no hesitation. The slave’s head nodded, and the yakuza boss smiled at him.

“I’m glad,” he said simply, meaning it. “Very glad, for both of you.” 

“Thank you, Asami-san,” the former assassin replied. “How is Akihito-kun?” he asked, his grey eyes falling to his slave’s body. It tensed at this question, the shoulders clearly going tight. Asami also noticed the tension in the Chinese man’s body.

“He’s well,” he replied for both of them. “He’s himself. Wild, always running away from me,” he sounded satisfied as he said this, and Fei Long’s eyes flashed to his face again. The lids lowered a bit, as he slumped in visible relief. It was clear that he’d felt guilt over the way he’d treated Akihito when he’d had him captive at his compound. 

Araki was also looking intently at his slave, and a satisfied smile lifted his mouth as he glanced up at Asami. There was gratitude in the grey eyes. Asami shrugged slightly, silently, to indicate that it was no big deal. “I should go,” he said. “I have a meeting at two o’clock. I just dropped in for a moment. Hopefully I’ll see you both later,” he added to the two men. 

Araki nodded at him coolly. “Goodbye, Asami-san.” The yakuza boss left the club, watched by two sets of eyes. Once he was gone, Araki looked down at his slave. “I am very pleased with you, boy,” he told the Chinese man. “You handled that meeting very well. Now put your head in my lap,” he added. Fei Long’s face lit up at this treat. He hastened to do as he was told, laying his head in Araki’s lap. Fingers ran through his hair caressingly, and he could feel his Master’s erection under his cheek. He sighed happily behind the gag. Fei Long knew his place now…and it was right here beside this man. For the rest of his life, if the Gods were kind. And oddly enough, he was beginning to think that they actually were… 

 

The End


End file.
